S.H.E.

S.H.E.

she was born out of the man’s rib

her bones fragile

her muscles holding not much power

her body slender, soft not masculine

she was considered not strong but weak

she was forbidden the things men would do

often she was told to resist her desires

was laughed at for shedding tears

she was asked to stay behind the doors

was used as a piece just to provide pleasure

she was called a machine that produces children

she was being hurt, raped, got killed every moment

fools were they, for not realizing her worth

fools were they not to praise her courage

fools were they not to respect a woman

fools were they not to know of her power….

….the power to gulp the pain in silence

the power to remain calm and not get violent

the power to cross a path full of thorns

the power of love she held in her heart….

she was selfless when she loved her man

she was affectionate when she loved her children

she stood by her family each moment

how could someone ever call her weak

SHE seems to me the STRONGEST

*****

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A Society so Empty

A Society so Empty

Living in a world

With no compassion

People, with guns in their hands

Their minds full of disgust

Hatred, overflowing

Their eyes, ready to cheat

Everyone who could be cheated

Their words cruel, hurtful

As they open their mouth to speak

Their brains so full of greed

Wanting enormous power

Their mindset inhuman

Not allowing others to make any choices

Breeding a generation like their own

Their children following their path

Not realizing, their attitude

Becoming poisonous

Creating

A society so Empty

That’s never to flourish

But to die

A painful death

&

To fill the emptiness

With nothing

but

dead bodies all around

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Religion Ruthless

Religion Ruthless

I carved your name on the ice

the ice melted, erased your name

I tried to hold you in my breath

your fragrance lost its scent

I held you close as I burnt myself in fire

there were ashes only as the fire calmed down

I built a strong tower to keep you safe with me

cruel society hammered it ruthlessly

why O why I failed to make you mine

why everything didn’t want us to unite

we were both born humans

a girl beautiful, a boy so kind

why O why did they categorize

you were born a Hindu

and me a Muslim

******

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#poetry #religion #society

the Prostitute

the Prostitute

still a child she was, no more than eight or nine

eyes filled with dreams, with an urge to fly

meagre means, harsh life

still, there was comfort of parents around

there came a day that brought the storm

separated by her parents, into the hands of human traffickers

a nightmare, she was to see with her open eyes

forced into the trade of sex for the rest of her life

now the world knows that child as a prostitute

a prostitute to serve many monsters a day

one after the other they assaulted her will

with no shame to cause her excruciating pain

slowly her tears had started to dry

she had to be bold, learned not to cry

she yearned for a family and a husband every moment

knowing all her wishes were in vain

she bore a child at the age of 16

still at work with her baby crying in the adjacent room

for she now had a mouth to be fed too

and they would’t let her escape this hell

she was no daughter, no sister, now wife to no one

still a human, a mother she was

no words could ever describe her sufferings

if only there was someone to take her out of the dark

the society looks down at her in a manner ridiculous

will they realize ever

she was thrown into this disgusting pit

her eyes incapable to see no dreams no more

now she is termed as a prostitute (a bitch)

and yes,

she was forced to become one

it was never her choice

my heart goes out for the sufferings of all the victims of human trafficking and sex trade

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They call her a Slut !

They call her a Slut !

they call her a slut

but, is she ONLY so

isn’t she a little more than that

isn’t she a woman too

doesn’t she hold a heart that beats

doesn’t she cries of pain

her screams may never be heard by anyone

they are silent, not meant to be noticed

they just call her a slut

do they know why is she so

do they care 

do they give a damn!

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Envy & Grace

Envy & Grace

two sisters – unborn

dreaming together in the womb

holding each other’s hand

fondly in love, even before birth

sharing the sack

the fluid they gulped into their lungs

sharing every thought, each moment

be it happiness, pain or love

flawlessly playing their part

blooming a relationship wonderful

the sisters finally took birth

still unaware of the sadness of the world

sigh..

the cruel teachings of the inhumane

made them part their path

for one of them grew up as Ms. Grace

the other was named Ms. Envy

need more to be told of this story?

how two loving souls

doomed

to turn forver

into enemies

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They came to see Me DEAD

They came to see Me DEAD

lying in the coffin peacefully

I saw myself, my eyes closed

there were people around my body

sobbing, teary eyes

few of them I knew

they were silent, crying in their hearts

many others, I didn’t know them at all

I wondered, why were they even there

they never were there when I was alive

they never were there when I were in need

they never were there when i was dying, calling them

what brought them here today when I am dead

I am no more there to talk to them

I am no more there to share a smile

I am no more there to be held

seeing their fake tears on my funeral

I knew they just pretended to be sad

I now realize why they came today

they never wanted to be accused of their heartlessness

they never were happy to see me alive

today,for them was a day to celebrate

so they came to see me dead

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#poetry #society #falseHearted

Poor seem Rich to me

Poor seem Rich to me

the poor is not poor anymore

he has aspirations rich

he looks up to the sky everyday

he thanks God for what little he has

the poor is not really poor

his children now go to school

shining eyes filled with dreams

strong will to create a future

the poor truly is not poor

for he is kind and generous

it pains him if they are in pain

his readiness to be of any help

the poor sometimes seems rich to me

his eyes have no sign of greed

while he is growing every moment

he makes merry of his little wealth

the poor for sure is rich now

celebrating life as it comes

grasping the trueness of our existence

keep trying & to never give up

squeezing happiness from tiny little things

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Game of Greed

Game of Greed

lives fragmentary, broken

chasing greed, thriving for more

possessions irrelevant

competing to possess more.. more

naive to perceive, foolish to register

the merriment to be relished

hidden in tiny little things

goals as soon as achieved, newer set

no hours assigned to celebrate achievements

lives fragmentary becoming now hollow

beauty lost in the game of greed

leading lives to nothingness

making them empty

lives lifeless ultimately

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To Tell them.. He is Gay

To Tell them.. He is Gay

should he, should he not tell them

should today be the day of announcement

although it pained to think, why he had to

why couldn’t they just think it’s fine

society keeps blabbering their open mind

still they make him feel he is different

why is he scared of their reaction

honestly, why does he even need to care

why does he need to gather courage

to tell them He is Gay

and then he makes his decision

he is going to celebrate his individuality and his choices

no one has the right to take it away from him

for he is proud of who he is

he is no more shy or scared

to tell them He is Gay

Cheers!

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Don’t cry like GIRLS!

Don’t cry like GIRLS!

Don’t cry like GIRLS! 

Often boys are told this. Just one sentence that has such a heavy and dark meaning to it. Are we are telling our boys that girls are weak? Are we telling are girls that they are not strong enough?

This is such a sexist statement, that girls and boys often grow up listening to. Aren’t we not preparing our generations to become what we ourselves criticize. Telling the boys that they can man handle the girls when they want to. Assuring the girls that they always need someone to protect them.

We don’t realize but many things that we put into the minds of our children leads to changes in the society. It’s all on us how to raise them. Whether we want to nurture them with good practices or we want to lead them to a weak and filthy future.

Somewhere deep down, when we give it a thought, we understand that such statements encourage the bigger problems to come challenge us in future. The dark reality of eve teasing and rapes starts to haunt us starting from the four walls. 

I pledge not to raise my children with such sexist statements to contribute towards what little I can do for the society.

After all, it’s a matter of our children’s future!

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Are Rich Truly Rich

Are Rich Truly Rich

are they rich for they have wealth

are they rich for they own a lot of land

are they rich for they can buy all the comforts

are they rich for people bow to them

shall we put it the other way

are they truly rich for their money can’t buy them a smile

are they truly rich if they don’t care for the poor

are they truly rich for they spend sleepless nights

expensive mattress can’t buy them tension free sleep

shall we conclude it now

no they are not rich for the peace of mind is not sold anywhere

no they are not rich for they are never satisfied

no they are not rich for they live fake lives

i guess the rich with money are mostly poor

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A City birthing a City

A City birthing a City

glorious city with colorful lights

glittering with gold, with best lifestyle

fancy people belong here

they all wear hats and long coats

their shoes polished shining

their language articulate

men always walk with pride

their ladies always glowing and bright

each one of them own a house big and plush

inside they sit and relax

while they sip their english tea in expensive cups

someone not so polished sweats

this someone not so polished, is the servant who does’t sleep

the one who cooks for a family of 20, for him there’s nothing to eat

he doesn’t wear shoes of any kind, nor does he speak good language

always he walks behind the master carrying his master’s luggage

his children have never seen a school, neither have they seen a playground

for they are forced to follow the footsteps of their father

they never step out of the servant’s quarter

generations to come shall follow the tradition

children of masters to remain masters

to rule the children of the servants

slowly, the glittery glorious city, birthing a city

that’s dull, full of pain

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